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RED JOE

O n Saturday, I left Eddie sleeping while I did my morning rounds.

I climbed to the lantern room and stepped out onto the catwalk.

Today was cold but no worse than yesterday.

The bite of winter was in the air, but it was a long way from the bitter cold that would settle over the island in another few weeks.

It didn’t snow on Dauntless, but winter often brought frosts that glazed the windows and cracked like glass underfoot.

Out on the horizon, a freighter passed. Closer to the island, a fishing boat rounded the point. I recognised the silhouette against the dawn light—John Corporal’s boat.

I climbed down the winding stairs again, whistling for Hiccup when I reached the yard, and headed back to the cottage.

The chill called for porridge for breakfast, so I rummaged in the pantry for the rolled oats.

Hiccup nosed her way out the kitchen door, barking.

A few moments later she returned, followed by Young Harry Barnes.

Young Harry Barnes, the biggest gossip on the island, was a barrel-shaped man in his sixties, with ruddy cheeks and a bushy white beard that made him look like a more weathered version of Santa.

“Morning, Red Joe,” he said, stepping inside the kitchen and setting a canvas bag on the table. “Not too early for you, is it?”

“Not at all,” I said.

Young Harry took a carton of eggs from his canvas bag. “I came by Katrina Finch’s house, and she sent me up with these. That’s a dozen this week, since I told her you’ve a guest.”

“Thank you.” I tugged open the drawer under the bench, where I kept a tin for the egg money. Dug around and pulled out a five dollar note.

Young Harry tucked the note into the pocket of his baggy pants. “Well, I’ll see she gets it. I’m no delivery boy though, Red Joe. I’m here for my pills.”

“Right, of course.” I took the porridge off the stovetop before it boiled over. “Just a second.”

The medical chest wasn’t just for emergencies.

I was also the island’s de facto pharmacist. It wasn’t practical for the island’s residents to travel to the mainland every time they needed a regular prescription filled, so their prescriptions were authorised by the doctors at the Royal Flying Doctor Service, and I was given the authority to dispense them.

Short Clarry was pushing to open the island up to tourists and to outside businesses too.

If anything ever came of it, I hoped we’d get a doctor, or at least a medical clinic staffed by a registered nurse.

I thumbed through the keys at my belt until I found the one for the medical chest. I opened it and saw Henry Jessup’s plastic-wrapped diary still sitting on top.

I set it aside and pulled out the logbook.

Then I checked Young Harry’s prescription—antibiotics—and took the pills from the chest. I checked again that the name of the drug and the number on the side matched the entry in the logbook, and had Young Harry sign the logbook with me.

Young Harry tucked the packet into his pants.

“That’s the last repeat,” I said. “You’ll need a fresh prescription next time.”

“Aye,” Young Harry said. “I’m seeing the doctor in Newcastle again next week. Hopefully I’ve kicked it, and I won’t need anymore.”

“I hope so too.” I wasn’t necessarily privy to the medical information of the people who came to me, but everyone on Dauntless knew everyone else’s business, and the whole island knew Young Harry had a chest infection he couldn’t shake. It didn’t seem to slow him down, at least.

I set the diary back on top of the bandages, then closed the chest and locked it.

“I imagine I’ll be taking your guest back to the mainland next week too,” Young Harry said, stepping over to the stovetop to inspect my breakfast.

“You’ll have to ask him that.”

“Well, Dauntless is no place for a Hawthorne.” Young Harry tugged ruminatively at his beard. “Particularly not one poking his nose in. Though he seems a decent bloke apart from all that. Could talk underwater with a mouthful of marbles though.”

I made a sound of agreement.

“Well,” Young Harry said, “ask him if he wants that tent of his back, will you? No use letting it flap in the wind down there.”

Young Harry was a born scavenger.

“He’ll probably want it back, Young Harry.”

“Well, just ask.” Young Harry stuck his pinkie finger in the porridge and tasted it with a hum. “Your porridge needs some brown sugar.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. The tent and the sugar.”

“Righto then.” Young Harry hefted his canvas bag up from the kitchen table. “Have a good one, Red Joe.”

“You too, Young Harry.”

“Will we see you at square tonight?”

I thought of Eddie. “Maybe.”

Young Harry hummed thoughtfully and then, without another word, headed on his way.

Hiccup followed him happily, but was back in time for porridge.

Of course she was.

* * *

E ddie was not an early morning person. He stumbled out of bed just before eight, grunted at me on his way to the bathroom, and was still blinking himself awake after he’d showered and dressed.

“I’ll put some coffee on,” I said. “Do you want porridge for breakfast?”

He mumbled something that sounded like agreement as he sprawled in a chair at the kitchen table.

“Hi,” he said, once he’d had his first sip of coffee. He reached out and caught me by the sleeve. Tugged me close, then leaned into me. “Good morning.”

I smiled down at him. “Awake at last.”

“Still getting there.” He pulled me down for a quick kiss. “That’s better.”

I couldn’t stop my smile from spreading. “Yeah, that’s much better.”

I’d never been one for flings with tourists.

Even back on the mainland I’d never been much into hook-ups.

I was an introvert, I supposed. I liked my solitude, and conversations with near-strangers often felt forced and awkward.

But me and Eddie fit just right, even though I was terrible at conversation and he babbled like a creek in the spring.

And maybe that was because I knew this was a short-term thing, and that there was nothing in it to over-think.

But there might be more to it. I could see myself with someone like Eddie.

Someone whose idea of a perfect night was sitting in front of the fire, feet on the coffee table, reading a book.

Not that I was a monk. Reading books was great, but sex was pretty fucking incredible too. I had a series of hickeys across my chest that attested to that, and I was very much looking forward to paying Eddie back in kind.

Eddie dug into his porridge. “So, what’s the plan for today, Red Joe Nesmith?” He snickered. “God, that’s such a pirate name, isn’t it?”

“Not a pirate,” I said mildly, pouring myself a mug of coffee and sitting opposite him.

He rolled his eyes. “Not a pirate, not the king of the island. You just want to destroy all my dirtiest role-playing fantasies this morning, don’t you?”

I almost choked on my coffee. “Uh…”

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to work a sexy-as-fuck lighthouse keeper into my repertoire, won’t I?”

I swallowed with difficulty. “I guess you will.”

“Hmm.” He glanced at the oilskin coat hanging on the back of the kitchen door. “Have you got another one of those?”

I tried to look stern even though he could feel my face burning. “That is for work purposes only.”

Eddie laughed at my embarrassment. “So, what is the plan for today? Are we going to Miss Marple our way around the island again?”

“Well,” I said, “I thought we might go down into the village square tonight. Everyone comes into the village on Saturday night, so someone there might know who attacked you.”

“Everyone comes into the village?”

“There’s not much else to do on the island,” I pointed out. “So we all go down there with a casserole dish each, and we set up in the old church and we eat and talk and drink until it’s time to go home again. It’s a tradition.”

“That sounds amazing!” Eddie exclaimed, and then his face fell. “Except, you know, that everyone here hates me.”

“Everyone here hates George Hawthorne, not you.”

“Like there’s a difference,” Eddie said, raising his eyebrows. His expression grew serious. “Joe, someone bashed me over the head.”

“You’re with me,” I said firmly. “If you want to come, you’ll be fine. I’ll make sure nobody gives you any trouble. Otherwise, we can stay in. It’s up to you.”

“Well, as much fun as it would be to stay in with you and explore my new lighthouse keeper fetish, I think we should go. I mean, even if we don’t learn anything about who attacked me, it sounds like it could be fun.

And safety in numbers, right? It’s not like every single person on the island is going to gang up and murder me.

” Then he wrinkled his nose. “Huh. I wonder if that’s what George Hawthorne thought. ”

“Okay,” I said. “I’m banning all talk of George Hawthorne for the rest of the day.”

“That’s fair.” Eddie set his spoon down. He wiggled his eyebrows, making his glasses dance. “Want to not talk about him in bed?”

“Yes,” I said, heat rising in me. “Hell, yes.”

It turned out to be the right decision.

* * *

E ddie wore his beanie pulled down as we walked into the village late in the afternoon. It covered the cut on his temple, but not the purple bruise that extended down to the corner of his eye. He carried the potato bake I’d made that afternoon, and I carried two glass flagons of homebrewed beer.

The square outside the church was already full of people when we arrived, and I didn’t miss the way that Eddie stuck close. I couldn’t blame him.

We went into the church first. It hadn’t had a priest attached to it in my lifetime, so the community used it as an all-purpose hall.

We held weddings and funerals there too, which Short Clarry officiated.

He was not only the mayor and the head of the Tourist Board, but also the marriage celebrant and Justice of the Peace.

Everyone on Dauntless wore at least a few different hats. Nothing would ever get done otherwise.